


All For Naught

by TheMockingJ3



Category: Layton Kyouju Series | Professor Layton Series
Genre: Akbadain, Also this might become an AU, Azran ruins, Desmond's 'wife' and daughter are mentioned, Gen, Lots of puns probably, OC-centric, The Infinite Vault of Akbadain, discussions of character death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-27
Updated: 2021-01-27
Packaged: 2021-03-12 23:55:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,189
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29019324
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheMockingJ3/pseuds/TheMockingJ3
Summary: What lies hidden within the Infinite Vault of Akbadain? An evil 'scientist', a Targent traitor and kidnapped commander endeavour to find out.
Comments: 4
Kudos: 4





	All For Naught

**Author's Note:**

  * For [VermontScribble](https://archiveofourown.org/users/VermontScribble/gifts).
  * Inspired by [The Missing Key](https://archiveofourown.org/works/27374443) by [VermontScribble](https://archiveofourown.org/users/VermontScribble/pseuds/VermontScribble). 



> Spoilers: For Miracle Mask and probably Azran Legacy.  
> Set: During and after the final scene of Miracle Mask.  
> Warnings: Discussions of character death, weapons and exploring dangerous ruins  
> Note: @VermontScribble - I'm very sorry for the wait. Curse my inability to write oneshots. I'm hoping, at most, that this will be a twoshot and the new part will be done soon.

“Jean Descole...” Almundo uttered, pronouncing it ‘Des-col’ rather than ‘Desco-lay’.

Jun threw off his sunglasses (Targent’s ridiculous dark shades) and took the binoculars from Alumndo. The pair of them were perched on the dusty cliffs bordering the Infinite Vault of Akbadain. They had a perfect view of the Azran site and they had been lying in wait for Targent’s arrival. 

Jun’s eyes widened when he saw the grey caped-figure standing on the outer wall of the vault. 

“Is it really _him?”_ Jun exclaimed. Jean Descole... formerly _Desmond Sycamore?_ The man who had helped rescue Jun from Targent’s clutches years ago and kick-started a rebellion—? No, Mint had called it an  _infiltration._ They were trying to infiltrate Targent. 

But Descole’s presence complicated matters... 

A breeze stirred Jun’s hair. At the sound of propellers, he lifted his binoculars to the biscotti-coloured clouds. 

“They’re here,” Almundo hissed, pulling Jun behind a ledge. Jun poked his head out and gaped at the waves of airships, tanks, and other military vehicles surrounding the infinite vault— surrounding Descole. 

Again, Jun pointed the binoculars at Descole, who was still positioned above the vault. Descole turned and said something to the red-suited accomplice ( _Raymond?)_ beside him. 

_Why weren’t they trying to escape?_

Jun muttered, “We need to help them…” 

Almundo sent him a sideways glance, his brow furrowed and shining with sweat. Jun corrected himself, “Help...  _capture_ them, I mean—“

Descole raised his voice, roaring at the Targent agents below him. Jun followed Descole’s gaze with the binoculars. A sleek black car had pulled up in front of the army, and next to the car was— 

“Leon Bronev,” Jun breathed. 

Descole leapt down from the vault.

Jun leapt to his feet. 

_“Don’t...”_ Almundoreached for him, but Jun was darting out from behind the ledge. 

“Stick to the plan,” Jun hollered, hoping Almundo wouldn’t follow. (Al had already spent too many years of his life in a cell.) 

As he clambered down the cliff, Jun heard gunfire. Not aimed at  _him_ — he was disguised as a Targent grunt. They were shooting in Descole’s direction. 

Jun dropped the rest of the way down— seven feet— narrowly avoided hitting a cactus, and stumbled between the wall of tanks. 

Bronev’s troops were too distracted by Descole to notice Jun. For all they knew, Jun might have been a dozy agent who had turned up late to the vault. 

Four or five of them had Descole pinned to the ground. 

“Descole...  _Oh, Descole,”_ a deep voice taunted. Leon Bronev had to at least be in his sixties— older than Almundo— but he stalked towards Descole like a lion after a successful catch. 

“You cannot do this,” Descole grunted. “You have no right!” That definitely _sounded_ like Desmond, but not exactly how Jun remembered— his tone was a lot rougher around the edges. 

“Oh contraire, my boy,” Bronev replied, kneeling next to him. “Actually, I have  _every_ right. Now, let’s just have a look...” 

He reached for Descole’s white mask. Jun stared, stunned. Really, he should have been rushing out to free Descole or providing a distraction, but he wanted to know... 

Was Jean Descole truly Desmond Sycamore? Was Desmond capable to committing such criminal acts? Kidnapping people, threatening families, ruining their homes... all in the name of overcoming Targent. 

What would Mira Sharpace think? What would their  _daughter_ think? 

Could Jun still save him in spite of everything?

While Jun was dawdling, another man— _Raymond!—_ ran up behind Bronev. Jun could have sworn Raymond met his gaze for a second. (Maybe it was for the best that Jun had ditched those glasses...)

Then Raymond threw something at Bronev and the other agents restraining Descole. Whatever it was— A smoke bomb?— it exploded before Bronev could see Descole’s face. 

There were shouts from the agents. It sounded like they were struggling. 

Raymond emerged from the smoke, dragging Descole towards Jun. 

With a jolt, Jun dashed out to help them. _“This way!”_ he hissed, ushering Raymond behind one of the tanks. He and Raymond hauled Descole out of the army’s sight. 

“He’s of no concern,” they heard Bronev call. “Forget him. Secure the last of the Azran ruins.” 

_Wow..._ Was Jean Descole— Targent’s biggest threat— really so insignificant to Bronev? 

Huffing, Jun leaned back against the tread of the green tank they were hiding behind. He studied Descole, who was rubbing dust out of his eyes. Jun began, “Are you—“

Descole flew at him. Jun dodged his kick with a gasp. “Easy, Fruitcake— it’s  _me.”_

Those blazing brown eyes narrowed at him. (Of course he recognised Jun— Targent were short on British-Korean members.)  _“Jun?”_ he spat. “Back with _Targent?_ ” 

“Nope...” Jun tugged on the lapel of his blue coat. “I’m undercover— intelligence services.” 

“ _Which_ intelligence services?” 

All Jun gave him a half-smile. “That’s classified... but if you come with me, I can get you to safety.”

“That does sound reassuring,” Raymond mumbled. 

Descole scowled from him to Jun. “What  _then?”_ Descole demanded in a low voice. “Will you hand us over to the authorities?” 

Jun shrugged. “Depends... Now, we really should make a move—“

Descole lunged at him again. Jun was slower this time, but Descole hadn’t been aiming for him. 

A man— a Targent agent— had crept up behind Jun. The agent had been holding a gun, but it clattered to the ground as Descole tackled him. 

“Thanks,” Jun sighed. As Descole wrestled the agent to the ground, Jun retrieved the gun. (Targent no longer favoured swords, since they had executed their finest fencer.) 

“Don’t just  _stand there,”_ Descole seethed, struggling to hold the agent down. “ _Shoot him.”_

“So the whole agency can hear the shot?” Jun quipped, opening the gun’s magazine. 

Raymond agreed, “He has a point, Master...” 

Jun emptied the gun of its bullets and approached his would-be assassin. The man had tanned skin and unruly light blonde hair. When he raised his head at Jun, Jun noticed the nasty scar lining his nose and his cheekbones. The sight of it made Jun’s arm itch. 

“Just _knock him out_ , then,” Descole snarled. 

The agent glanced up at the sky. Targent’s airships were starting to descend into the ruins. (It was a miracle the three of them hadn’t been spotted yet...)

“What’s in the vault?” Jun asked quizzically.

“The _Nautilus Chamber_ ,” the agent hissed up at him like a cornered cobra. “Nothing that concerns you, _traitor—"_

“Okay, then.” Jun whacked him over the head with the gun’s handle. The agent slumped to the floor, seemingly unconscious. “Help me carry him back to my ship?” Jun said.

Descole dropped the agent’s arms and stood up, wiping his hands. “No. This is _your_ problem—”

Jun hooked one arm under the agent’s armpit and struggled to lift him up. (This guy was even taller than Almundo…) Jun grunted, “Do you want to see inside the vault or _not?”_

Desmond exchanged a frown with Raymond. Poor Raymond looked as if he would much rather go home for a cup of tea.

 _“Fiiine,”_ Descole huffed, grabbing the agent’s other arm.

Jun grinned. “Thanks, Fruitcake.”

“Will you _stop_ calling me that? I don’t even wear cologne anymore…” 


End file.
